I Miss Heartbreak
i have known heartbreak.
i have held her hands and
even kissed her salty tears
like we were lovers and best friends.
i do not see her often.
i lost her phone number and replaced memories of her
that irreversibly alter the traffic pattern to my heart.
i have boobie-trapped the path to reaching me
so much so that no one dares
set their feet on the journey
and if they do, it remains incomplete.
for some odd reason,
i miss heartbreak.
i miss real tears of genuine nature
without feeling so mature
that i am rarely moved by anything or anyone
or any one of the things that used to affect me.
i miss heartbreak:
the jagged zig-zags in the middle of my overworked organ
were so much more interesting
than the stitches that have replaced them.
these stitches don’t bend or even allow love through their holes.
they have even stretched to hang a sign
that always reads “closed”.
oh, this life of mine
where i miss pain and am scared of joy,
where i miss crying and the future seems more like a ploy
to drag me where i don’t want to go
and teach me hard lessons that i already know
and spiral me into a world where i’m in control
and afraid of four-letter words
that break my five-letter heart.